Author: ncosgray

Somehow I’ve become a fan of the glorified hospital soap opera that is ABC’s Grey’s Anatomy, which takes place in a fictional Seattle where it rains heavily all the time, where none of the trees are native to the Pacific Northwest, and where a driver must take I-90 to commute from her home in Queen Anne to a workplace just blocks away from Pike Place Market.

Needless to say, when the most recent episode featured a zoom-in to the supposed location of Meredith’s house, we spent an extraordinary amount of time searching for that location. To our surprise, we found that it actually exists! With the help of Google Maps and Google Earth, we were able to pinpoint the location shown in the opening sequence of the show to a corner one block from Kerry Park on Queen Anne Hill. To be precise, Dr Grey and her pals live in the large house on the northwest corner of 3rd Avenue West and West Comstock Street.

The next step, I suppose, is a drive-by at street level; look for the results of Phase II of Operation: Grey’s Abode in a future post.

(Click for larger images.)

Here’s a photo of me at the summit of Little Si. To mark the occasion of my first time reaching the very top of a mountain, I struck this odd pose.

The climb was lovely, of course, although the day was quite a bit warmer than we’d’ve liked. I prefer a cool, cloudy day for hiking, and if a fine misty rain is falling, so much the better. On the day of our visit to Little Si the temperature was near 90, so conditions were not ideal. In addition, some sort of concert was taking place in a valley below, and along the way our ears caught clips of a variety of Top-40 hits that had been whisked a thousand feet upward by the wind. Bizarre.

Length: 2.5 miles each way
Difficulty: moderate
Elevation gain: 1200 feet
Ending elevation: 1576 feet
Journey time: about 2.5 hours

For some reason, the hallway outside my office smells just like a chicken coop. This brings back memories…

When I was a kid growing up in Bloomington, Indiana, my grandparents owned a pretty sweet abode. It was out in the country about ten miles north of town, and was situated on a hillside, halfway underground, with a large patio that overlooked a densely-wooded ravine. Even on a hot summer day it always seemed comfortably cool on that patio, which was shaded and quiet. Inside, the guest bedrooms were at the back of the house, in the underground portion, and I remember being fascinated by the window wells that let sunlight in from above. All manner of plants and animals made their homes in the wells, and from the bedroom one could watch this entire world — a sort of mini ecosystem. My favorite inhabitants were the green tree frogs and the huge, warty brown toads. In one corner of the house, next to the garage (which itself was home, at various times, to any number of stray cats and rescued squirrels), was my grandfather’s office. It was a cozy spot and it contained a very large television set. We watched “Dallas” with my grandma as my grandpa sat at his desk among ledgers and calculators.

But the best thing about grandma and grandpa’s house was unquestionably the chicken coop. It was off to the side of the patio, just on the edge of a large chigger-infested field. At a glance the structure appeared to be nothing more than a simple wooden shed, although there was an unusual gangplank leading up to its small door. I wasn’t often allowed inside that door, but I do remember distinctly what it was like in there. Light filtered through the empty spaces between the planks of wood that made up the walls. And, of course, there was that chicken-coop smell, which was not unpleasant at all. It smelled of chicken feed, mainly. My grandfather had about a dozen chickens, though I’m not entirely sure why he kept them. They produced eggs, but to my knowledge they were never butchered. I think he just enjoyed their company.

Yesterday the weather was so impossibly perfect that I had no choice but to sneak away from work as soon as the digits five-zero-zero presented themselves on my clock. What a gleeful moment! I walked due South across campus, past a thousand students lounging in the sunshine, and crossed the Montlake drawbridge. Luckily, I survived the crossing. The bridge did not lift up as I walked, so I did not find myself hanging onto the guardrail for dear life, legs dangling 100 feet above a rowing crew in the canal below, who had paused their athletic efforts to watch me struggle.

So, having avoided catastrophe, I wandered to the water’s edge at MOHAI in hopes of joining my favorite trail. The Foster Island trail is a raised walkway that hops from MOHAI to two tiny islands where lakeside wildlife is abundant. Ducklings and the whole shebang. But there would be no ducklings for me. The trail was closed due to high water conditions at Lake Washington.

Instead, I crossed 520 and skirted the border of the Arboretum for a while until I came to the pine grove. Here I found a little footbridge which took me straight onto the sunny grassway that snakes though the entire park. It’s lined with azaleas of all varieties, and they are in full bloom now. There were a number of lovely scents on the air.

But what I was really looking for were rhododendrons. I am happy to report that rhododendrons are indeed available for viewing at the Arboretum; I found upwards of fifty of them ranging in size from 24 inches to 24 feet tall. The tall ones have bona-fide trunks and have probably stood for more decades than I’ve been alive.

One highlight of my visit to the Arboretum was the Puget Sound Rhododendron Hybrid Garden, which taught me a thing or two. Apparently, although the Pacific Northwest has the best climate in the U.S. for growing rhododendrons, they were a relative rarity in gardens until the 1940s. It was then that British rhododendron breeders sent local gardeners samples of their most-prized seeds, fearing that the WWII bombing raids would damage their plants irretrievably. Soon a cadre of what must’ve been eccentric rhododendron breeders sprang up in Seattle who began to meet weekly and argue about flower sizes and hardiness.

Finally, hungry and with thoughts of laundry in my head, at 6:30 I found a 48 bus and was home in minutes.

Every spring, something amazing happens on the UW campus: cherry blossoms. These thirty Yoshino cherry trees have graced the Quad since the sixties after being transplanted from the Arboretum. (I myself have graced the Quad since only 2003.) I don’t believe such a display can be seen anywhere else in Seattle, and each year crowds gather with cameras. I decided to take some pictures too, as the cherries seem particularly spectacular right now.